


Come Let Me Love You

by ariel2me



Series: Cassana/Steffon [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Estermonts were her good-kin through Robert, whose father had taken one of them to wife in what must have been a fit of lust or madness. (A Feast for Crows)</p><p>It was neither lust nor madness that led to the union between Steffon Baratheon and Cassana Estermont.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Let Me Love You

**260 AC**

“You look … different.”

 _I have flowered. My moon blood has finally come,_ she thinks of telling him, but he would blush, she expects. He is a great one for blushing; turning bright red, smiling that crooked smile of his to hide his embarrassment.

“So do you, my lord,” Cassana says instead, which is also the truth. He left for the Stepstones half a boy, and returned a man. A fatherless man.

Steffon grimaces. “My lord. I am sick unto death hearing that. _My lord, you should. My lord, you must. Lord Baratheon, we beseech you._ ” He pauses, searching her face. “Surely not _you_ too, Cassana? Am I no longer Steffon to you?”

 _Steffon._ It had been so easy, calling him Steffon before. A companion to the Lady of Storm’s End is not supposed to be so friendly and familiar with the son and heir of the Lord of Storn’s End, but back then, it was easier to pretend that they were not doing anything so wrong, so contrary to the way things should be.

 _Now_ though, now he is no longer just the son and heir to Lord Baratheon. He _is_ Lord Baratheon, the Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, overlord to Lord Estermont her own father, considered by many to be the least of all the stormlords.

“Uncle Harbert tells me I must marry soon,” Steffon says. “I must have an heir, he keeps reminding me. _You_ are my heir for now, Uncle, I remind him, but he does not find that in the least comforting.”  

The previous Lord of Storm’s End had been married to a Targaryen princess. “Perhaps your other uncle His Grace the king has made plans for your marriage,” Cassana ventures.

“My uncle Jaehaerys says he does not wish to interfere. He was only insistent about the marriage between his own son and daughter.”

Cassana doubts that Steffon’s mother Princess Rhaelle would have taken too kindly to her brother interfering in her son’s marriage, in any case. If it had been her father, the late King Aegon the Fifth, perhaps it would have been a different matter. Princess Rhaelle herself had wed in accordance to her father’s wish, the only one of her siblings to do so.

It is strange, Cassana thinks, that Steffon’s grandfather had not arranged any betrothal for his three grandchildren. But perhaps King Aegon had given up on marriage alliances, after his children’s long and infamous history of broken betrothals.

“They are miserable, my cousins, living as husband and wife. Cousin Rhaella most of all,” Steffon says. “Rhaella … she used to shine like the sun, but now … now she rarely smiles at all.”

“They are not fond of one another? Not even as brother and sister?”

“No, they are not. And even less so as husband and wife. Aerys tells me I am _lucky_ ,” Steffon says, spitting out the word ‘lucky’ angrily.

“Lucky?”

“Lucky that I could choose my own bride. Lucky that I could rule my own lands. Lucky that my father is not still living to command me to do as he wishes. I _am_ sorry for his and Rhaella’s predicament, I truly am. I love them both and sincerely wish a better fate for them. But for Aerys to say that I am _lucky_ that my father is dead … as if I would wish my own father dead, as if I would not have given _anything_ , anything at all, even my own life, to have my father here still, flesh and blood, living and breathing –“ he stops, voice hitching. “Forgive me,” he says, looking away, avoiding her gaze.

Cassana moves closer towards him. “Your cousin is a _fool_. You loved your father dearly.”

Steffon raises his head, slowly. “I wonder if he knew that, my father.”  

“I am sure he did, Steffon.”

Her voice calling his name finally breaks his composure. When the tears come, he does not hide them from her, and she does not flinch or look away in embarrassment.  

**____________________**

**261 AC**

He is here, in Storm’s End, in the stormlands, all the time now. Before his lord father’s death, Steffon used to divide his time between King’s Landing and Storm’s End, but now he rarely goes to King’s Landing at all.

“They think me more dragon than stag, these stormlords. Even the smallfolks at that.”

She knows what he means by that. “You will prove to them that you are a worthy Lord of Storm’s End, a credit to the Baratheon name, as your lord father was.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I have faith in you.”

He holds her hand. “Thank you, Cassana,” he says, smiling his crooked smile. He does not let go for the longest of time. She does not _want_ him to let go.    

They must have been seen, because later that day, one of Princess Rhaelle’s ladies-in-waiting summons Cassana for a private conversation.

“How far has it gone, you and Lord Baratheon? How many times?”

Cassana splutters, indignant. “He has never … we have _never_ …”

“He will not marry you. His mother and his uncle will want a grander match for him. He is the grandson of a king, the son of a princess of royal blood, not just the Lord of Storm’s End. He _cannot_ marry you, Cassana. Remember that. The best you could hope for is to be the mother to his bastard. He will claim the bastard, of course, clothe and feed it, put a roof over its head. You are still a highborn lady after all, for all that your father is too far beneath him. But what of your own prospect for marriage after that? The best you could hope for is to wed one of your father’s household knights. That is, if your father would consent to grant this knight some piece of land to compensate for him taking spoiled goods off your father’s hand. If your father still _has_ any spare land to grant, that is.”

“You know nothing about me, or my father, or … _him_.”

“I am not trying to be cruel, Cassana. I am trying to tell you the ways of the world. You are five-and-ten, not five. If your lady mother were still living, she would have told you the same thing I am telling you now. Your lord father is too blinded by the possibility of his daughter being the Lady of Storm’s End to think wisely. He should have sent for you by now, should have taken you home and arranged a suitable betrothal for his daughter. Instead, he is gambling that your charm and Lord Baratheon’s affinity for you will be enough to make him the grandfather to a future Lord of Storm’s End. But it is _not_ enough. It is never enough.”

“You make it sound as if I have been conspiring with my father to snare Lord Baratheon into a trap.”

“You truly care for him, even _I_ can see that, and that is the worst thing about it. When he jilts you, as he surely will, as he _must_ , then … where will you be, Cassana? Where does that leave you?”

“He has never made any promises to me. And I have never made any promises to him. There is no obligation, on either side.”

Except perhaps the obligation of the hearts.

**____________________**

They kiss, under the stars. “Marry me,” he says. “Marry me, Cassana.”

She has dreamed of him saying those very words, but now she recoils actually hearing them said out loud.

Princess Rhaelle would have wanted a grander match for her son. Would she think it a betrayal, if Cassana and Steffon –

She has never been anything other than caring and kind to Cassana. To the motherless girl sent to be a companion to the Lady of Storm’s End.

“I was younger than you are now, when I came to Storm’s End to be Lord Lyonel’s cupbearer and Lady Shireen’s companion. I remember how afraid I was, how lonely I felt. You must tell me, if you are feeling afraid or lonely. You must not suffer in silence, like I did.”  

When Cassana’s thirteenth nameday came and went and her moonblood still had not come, she began to worry if something was wrong with her, if she would not grow to be like other women. Princess Rhaelle was the one who consoled her, who convinced her that it was different for every woman.

 _Cassana is the princess’ favorite_ , so says the other companions, even the ladies-in-waiting. When the news of Lord Ormund’s death reached Storm’s End, Cassana was the only one Princess Rhaelle had allowed in her bedchamber, the only one she wanted by her side as she grieved for her husband.

Her grief was terrible to see, but when she finally came out to meet the assembled lords and ladies in the great hall, her eyes were dry, her voice calm and composed. Some whispered, “She must not be grieving _too_ much, if at all. She was forced to marry him because her brother jilted Lord Ormund’s sister after all. Perhaps she is relieved that he is dead.”

Princess Rhaelle paid no mind to the whispers. “I loved him. I know the truth of it, and no one can take that away from me, no matter what words they whisper. Regardless of how our marriage began and the long struggles we confronted, we grew to love one another. It is enough that I know it, and that _he_ knew it.”  

**____________________**

“My son tells me he wishes to marry you. Is that your wish as well, Cassana?”

Coyness has never been one of Cassana’s gifts. “It is, my princess,” she replies directly.

“Why? Why do you want to marry Steffon?”

“Because I want what you and Lord Ormund had,” she says, boldly.

“There is a price for loving,” Princess Rhaelle replies, her voice gentler now, full of compassion. _You know the price_ , her eyes are saying. _You have seen me paying it._

“Better to mourn a lost love, than to mourn never loving anyone at all; that’s what you told me.”

   **____________________**

 _With this kiss I pledge my love_ , they say the vows, repeating after the septon.

But of course, they had pledged their love long before that, with the promises and obligations of the hearts.


End file.
